


no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl back to you)

by helluvapilot



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Memories, Drinking, Explicit Language, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Not complete AU but divergence at point, Pining, Swearing, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-10-30 04:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helluvapilot/pseuds/helluvapilot
Summary: “Yeah, come see LA. I’ll take you only to the clean parts, and you can watch my routine,” Richie said.“Dude, I can’t just go. I have a wife,” Eddie said.Richie looked out the window. He didn’t need a reminder.“Are you trying to convince me she’s real?”“Why would I fake having a wife?” Eddie asked.





	1. boys workin' on empty

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a long time since I have written anything and I am so excited to finally be creating. Big shout out to viictuurious, on tumblr, for being a sounding board for some ideas as I started to work on this.

"What the fuck am I doing?" Richie asked himself as he boarded the plane. He couldn't believe that he spent almost five hundred dollars to visit a place that he grew up in. Who the fuck forgets their hometown? What else was he forgetting?

Richie shook his head as he sat down in his seat. How the fuck do you just forget people? He kept trying to imagine any of the details, but it seemed as someone had over-developed the film in his brain. The images were there, but none of the details were. He could see glimpses. He remembered Mike from the phone call, but there wasn't much else that was coming to him.

Who else was he forgetting?

How many of them were going back?

Was he going to be the only one who showed up?

"Sir, are you okay?" the flight attendant asked in a worried voice. She glanced down at his hands quickly.

Richie looked up quickly. He took a deep breath and opened his fists a few time to create blood flow again. He hadn't noticed how tight his grip was on the armrest until that moment. "Can I get as much whiskey as you can give me at once, please?"

The flight attendant nodded, and Richie could have sworn that there was a judgment in her eyes. There was pity swirling in them as she looked at him. He wondered if she was going to tell her friends about how Richie Tozier, the famous comedian who just had a special on Netflix, was a nervous wreck guzzling whiskey on the plane after canceling multiple late-night appearances to take a random trip to Maine. He couldn't wait for the rumors that he had checked himself into a rehab center across the country.

He made a mental note to discuss more of this with his joke writer once he returned to LA. There had to be jokes buried in this nightmare.

God, he hoped that least he'd get something out of this trip.

His internal panic fell silent as he heard the voice of the pilot fill the cabin.

"This is your captain speaking welcoming to your nonstop flight to Bangor, Maine today. My name is Eduardo and I'll –"

Rich felt the air suddenly knocked out of his lungs. He tried to take a deep breath, but he could barely pull in any oxygen. It felt as if someone was choking him. He wondered if this is what it felt like for Eddie during his asthma attacks.

Fucking hell, his mind raced as his mind was suddenly flooded with flashes of this frantic boy always talking too fast and using his inhaler far too much.

The thought just brought more pain to his lungs as he continued to attempt to catch his breath.

"Mr. Tozier," the flight attendant said quietly passing him two small containers of whiskey.

Richie grabbed them quickly and had never been more grateful for timing in his life. He quickly unscrewed the lid and gulped one down. Eyes closed 

Admittedly, he wasn't even sure what he remembered. He could remember that Eddie existed and assumed that he had also received a phone call last night. If you asked him for any other specific memories of the boy, nothing else definite came to mind other than his manic energy, inhaler, and just a feeling of calm. Remembering Eddie's existence was the first thing to calm his anxiety over this trip back to Derry.

He decided to take advantage of his sudden calm and took out his phone and slowly searched, "Derry, Maine." He hoped that he could refresh some of those memories back before he was physically inside of them. He wanted to know what he was walking back into.

"Jesus Christ." He scrolled through the news hoping to find at least one article that didn't mention a missing child or murder. Maybe that explained the horrible sinking feeling he had about returning. What sort of warped murder town did he grow up?

He clicked on the first article to satisfy his curiosity.

"Body Identified as Adrian Mellon in Kissing Bridge Murder."

For a moment, Richie thought that he could picture this bridge. He could see himself on it, but he was alone in this flash. He wondered if he had shared a kiss on it, but that flash wasn't coming to him.

"Mellon, an asthmatic, was thrown off the bridge in town commonly referred to as the Kissing Bridge after an alleged hate crime according to a personal statement from his boyfriend. The body was found heavily mutilated and missing an arm."

Rich unclipped his seat belt without even checking if it was okay to move in the cabin. He rushed to the front of the plane barely making it inside the bathroom before emptying d the contents of his stomach into the steel toilet. His body could barely fit in the space, and there wasn't the strength to stand back up. He was also afraid he might throw up again as specific memories came flooding back to him.

At least you didn't come out before returning to hate crime central, Rich, he thought. He rested his head in his hands. Even his weak attempt at humor didn't do anything to calm his own nerves.

He closed his eyes, attempting to picture those memories a little clearer. He thought back to the article and for the first time since childhood thought about Georgie. He had completely forgotten about the murder of his best friend's brother. He for a moment thought that he remembered seeing him after the death missing his arm, but he told himself that was fucking crazy.

Everything about this was crazy. Today, pieces of himself were uncovered that hadn't seen daylight in years. 

He wanted to put the extra pieces back away. He didn't want to remember Georgie. He didn't want to remember what it was like growing up in Derry. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to remember Eddie.

He could taste acid building up in his throat again thinking back to the article.

An asthmatic gay man was murdered and thrown into the water and mutilated.

More flashes of Eddie came to his mind. Sleepovers. Subtle touches. The not so subtle touches that had made Riche's heart race in a way that scared him when he was a kid. The way Eddie was afraid of everything. His asthma.

Richie threw up again.

He closed his eyes, and he was suddenly in his childhood bedroom. He had thought about this room in at least 27 years. It was the first memory that had come to him fully. Everything else felt like someone had burned out bits and pieces with a cigarette, but this was complete.

There was barely a free spot on the wall not covered by a poster. The chaos was limited to just the walls as the floor was littered with humor magazines and comic books. Cups of water were scattered throughout the room. Eddie looked distinctly out of place in this environment.

Richie was lying on his bed, flipping through a comic book. He occasionally glanced over at Eddie who was frantically looking through his fanny pack.

"What the fuck are you doing? Can you just relax?" Richie asked.

"No, I need to find my inhaler, asshole." There was a slight panic in Eddie's voice.

Richie didn't look up from his comic book. "Did you check your second fanny pack?"

Eddie glared at Richie while throwing his fanny pack at the ground. "I only brought one today."

"Okay," Richie started.

"This isn't okay, Richie. If I don't find my inhaler, my airway is going to constrict, and I am going to fucking die. I'm going to die in your disgusting bedroom and who knows what is fucking growing in here," Eddie was using hands to punctuate most of his words. He sat down on the ground to look through his fanny pack again.

"Eds, you're not going to die."

"You – don't – know – that!" Eddie yelled, taking a gasp between each word.

Richie finally put down the comic book and looked at Eddie. It was a normal occurrence to watch Eddie occasionally have a meltdown, but they had more frequent once they started high school. Some passed quickly, and others felt that they were never going to end. Rich hoped it was the first, but he feared this one might be more catastrophic. The fact that Eddie was sitting on his dirty floor confirmed that.

He started walking over towards Eddie. "Just breath, dude."

"Without – my – inhaler," Eddie started to say through wheezes.

"Shut the fuck up, and just breathe before I end up killing you."

Eddie glared at Richie.

Richie took a deep breath and placed both of his hands on Eddie's face and his body tense slightly at the touch. He waited for a moment for Eddie to tell him to remove his hands, but when he didn't, he adjusted his grip. He ran his thumb against Eddie's earlobe gently. "Just breath. Slowly. In and out."

Richie continued to guide Eddie through taking breaths. He wasn't sure how long they had stayed like that. He didn't move until he felt the tension leave from Eddie's face and noticed that his breathing seemed to have slowed.

The two sat there in silence with Richie cradling Eddie's head.

Richie dropped his hands quickly as he heard a knock on his door. "Boys, it's time for dinner!"

Richie awkwardly adjusted his glasses standing up. "I won't let you die on a dirty bedroom floor."

Richie opened his eyes and was back in a disgusting airplane bathroom. Eddie would have hated this. He would have an entire list of reasons why sitting on this floor could possibly kill him and at least four diseases that are commonly found on airplanes.

He leaned his head back, praying for the first time he could remember. God, don't let Eddie be brave enough to come back to Derry. Please let him be a coward this one time. Please listen to this and let me save him his life just one more time.

He wondered about the man that Eddie Kaspbrak would have grown into and the life that he had. 

Did he marry a woman?

Richie knew the answer. Of course, he did. He thought there might have been memories of them standing too close, but they were just dumb boys who didn't respect boundaries. They liked to push each other's buttons.

They had never talked about it. Richie had never spoken to anyone about it, and he was content keeping it that way.

It was a childhood crush. A dumb, small, dead childhood crush.

"Sir, are you okay?" The voice came from the other side of the door.

Richie chuckled. This flight attendant was definitely going to tell her friends that he was on a bender.

He dragged his body off the floor. It took a moment since every part of his body felt like it had been replaced by cement.

"I'm great," Richie said as he opened the door. "Motion sickness."

The flight attendant smiled at him. Her smile didn't reach her eyes as she looked at him with sad eyes. 

He made a mental note to find a gift for his publicist for when he returned home.

Or was it if he returned home? Would he also end up dead under a bridge in the middle of nowhere Maine?

"Can I have some whiskey please?" Richie asked a different flight attendant as she walked past.

She gave him the same sad, sympathetic smile he had received early. "Of course, Mr. Tozier."

Fuck, it's going to have to be a really fucking good gift, he thought. At this point, he didn't care. He needed a drink. Or twelve. Or maybe even a cigarette. Where was Bev when you needed her?

He decided that it was no time not to remember anything anymore. He wasn't sure how many of those tiny whiskeys he consumed, and he didn't want to know. He was just glad that he was finally able to sleep.

Sleep was his security and safety. It was one time a day where he could just completely shut off his brain. He was grateful that this stayed consistent for him. He had a few moments of peace before the plane landed in Bangor.

The landing was uneventful, and Richie quickly made his way off the plane and away from the sad eyes of those flight attendants.

He put on a baseball cap and quickly made his way through the airport. It didn't happen often, but he wasn't in the mood for someone to recognize him. Most times he loved it when a fan walked up to him, but every stranger right now put him on edge. He wanted to just to Derry. He had to get to Derry.

He approached the rental car counter. "I'm picking up a car. Reservation is for Tozier."

The young man behind the counter smiled without looking at him. He looked at the computer screen. "Do you have a preference for car, Mr. Tozier?"

"Something I'd look good in if I died in it," Richie said.

The worker stopped typing for a second and looked at him before smiling. "I have the perfect car for that."

Richie gave a forced smile back. He thought that maybe he could crash that car on the way. That would be a reason for not making it there.

He nodded and answered the questions the worker asked. He didn't process any of the details as he continued to nod.

He had a pounding headache from the whiskey earlier. 

The worker passed over a paper asking for his signature. He signed without even really looking at it. 

The worker handed over a set of keys. "Garage is behind me through those doors. The car will be in spot A4. Enjoy your time in Maine."

It was a quick walk to the garage. It was larger than expected and poorly lit. One of the lights flickered in the back corner. It looked like another place where someone could get murdered in Maine.

He walked down the aisles until he came to the correct spot. He shrugged, looking at the car. He could die in this without being completely embarrassed. 

Without much thought, Richie typed the hotel's address into the GPS. The drive would take under an hour. He checked the time to make sure that he'd make it to the restaurant on time. 

Richie turned up the volume as he pressed the gas pedal. He let the engine rev as he pulled onto the highway. For the first time that entire day, he felt as if he was finally in control.

The car went faster than anticipated, and it felt natural to speed on an empty highway. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen a highway this empty. At times it felt that he was the only car on the road.

That's a great sign, he thought. No one else wants to travel to this place either.

Richie felt that he might vomit again as he drove the giant "WELCOME TO DERRY, MAINE" sign.

"Turn left."

He looked down at the time, noticing that he had at least thirty minutes until he had to be at the restaurant. He didn't know why, but something in his body was telling him to drive straight. 

"Recalculating."

Rich turned off the GPS and went off intuition. 

He pressed the brakes gently once he realized what he was driving towards. The car stopped on the side of the bridge, and Richie turned the engine off. He slammed his hands against the steering wheel a few times. 

There were no words for any of the things he felt, so instead, he screamed. He screamed as loudly as he could and until there was no air left in his lungs. 

After a few deep breaths, he stepped out of the car and onto the bridge. In another world, this would have been a beautiful moment. Standing on a bridge looking out at the crimson sunset over the water down below, he understood why this could be one of the romantic spots in this town. It also was the scene of a horrific murder. Beautiful and deadly at the same time.

He tried to go through his own memories again to see if there was a reason to be standing on this bridge.

It hit Richie like a brick. This was where he had said goodbye to Eddie before he moved to California.

He remembered that he started his junior year in California, but never thought about where he was before that. The family never had a real discussion on why they were leaving Derry. Richie always assumed that it was because his mother knew how badly he wanted to perform, and there was no way he was going to accomplish that in this small town. Now he figured all the dead children might have been part of that decision.

Rich remembered that he was the first to leave the town. He was the first broken link in the chain of losers. Did that mean he was the first to forget? Did everyone else forget, too?

He leaned against the old, wooden bridge looking down at the water. He pushed out the thoughts of what was lingering in that water.

He turned and could almost see the two of them standing on the bridge, saying their final goodbyes. 

At that moment, Richie was awkward. He had grown six inches during sophomore year and towered over Eddie. The thick glasses didn't help with the awkward look either. Those were one of the first things to go when he moved.

Eddie looked uncomfortable. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, awkwardly shifting his body weight from foot to foot.

"This sucks," Eddie broke the silence.

"You have everyone else. And you'll visit," Richie said. "They'll be so many hot chicks who won't want to fuck you there, too, I bet."

"There's no fucking way I'm getting on a plane. Do you know how much bacteria is on a plane? And the same air circulates the entire time, and that's what a five-hour flight? Just imagine how much bacteria I would inhale in that time," Eddie said. His hands had worked their way out of his pockets. It was almost impossible for him not to speak using his hands when he was frustrated.

"You've been in greywater, but you won't get on a plane to see me?"

"Don't bring that up! You know how I feel about it, and this is completely different."

"Yeah, it's only your best friend on the other side of the country. I guess that's not serious enough for you to risk a cold."

Eddie looked down. "That's not…"

The statement was never finished. The two boys just stood there in the silence. 

Richie leaned against the wooden bridge. He skimmed the names and different carvings on the bridge while trying to find the words to say. "Eds, I…I…I…"

"Fucked my mom? I know," Eddie finished for him.

Richie nodded. "Yeah, she'll never find someone as good as me."

"She never will."

Richie threw a rock over the bridge to bring himself out of that memory. Eddie was right. He never did end up coming to California. Did they try to visit happened? 

The memories so far weren't terrible, which made him worry about the rest of the pages that were ripped from the book. He knew that there were darker chapters that he couldn't remember. For now, he'd stick to the abridged version.

He threw his head back, realizing that most likely that was the exact thing that was about to happen. In less than thirty minutes, he would be sitting in a room with six people that he hadn't seen in almost thirty years. Would he even recognize them? What else would he remember?

He looked down at the water for a final time. He didn't know if he was ready for this.

Richie turned to leave but stopped when he thought he heard something. He wasn't sure, but it almost seemed that laughter was coming from somewhere.

He turned around to see if there was anyone else on the bridge. Looking around, he noticed that he was the only person there. 

The first step that he took he thought that he heard the laughter one more time. It sent a chill up his spine because there was something about the cackle that wasn't happy. There was something dark and knowing about it. There was a sudden realization; he was aware that he was standing on a murder bridge in the twilight.

Once he made it into the car, he started the engine as quickly as possible, deciding he would use the GPS. Looking down at the clock, it was apparent was that this detour took more time than initially expected. There wasn't time to go to the Inn. At this point, he decided to drive right to the restaurant. He was nervous that if he didn't go directly there, he might never actually make it.

Mindlessly, he drove, listening to the directions. It said that it would take him seven minutes to get there. He wasn't trying to speed his way there, but he ended up making it there in six. The extra minute was spent with Richie just sitting in his car staring at the sign.

Looking at the other cars, he wondered if any of those belonged to any of the other losers. Where they already here? Richie hoped that he wasn't the first person to show up. He didn't want to start the small talk.

Rich took a deep breath, starting to open the car door. His hand dropped from the handle when he looked up. A man was pacing in front of the entrance. It seemed that the man was having a conversation with him when he walked back and forth. His hands were moving almost as if he was working his way through some list.

There was no mistaking it that Eddie Kaspbrak was standing twenty feet away from Richie. He fucking showed up.

Richie didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to turn the engine back on and drive away. He thought about driving away as fast as he could. He could easily be back at the airport in an hour, and then he'd be back in LA by morning. He would only end up missing one performance.

The other part wanted to run up to Eddie, hug him tight and apologize for forgetting about him. He didn't want to make sure that he knew he didn't do it on purpose. How do you apologize for something like that? Is there a card or a gift basket for that?

This was crazy.

Richie went to put the key in the ignition, and for the first time in many years fully noticed the scar on his palm.

They made a promise. He might have forgotten once, but this was a second chance. 

"Fuck this," Richie said as he opened the door of the car.

The car door slammed louder than he had anticipated. Eddie's head snapped towards the sound.

Richie froze once Eddie looked at him. He wanted to run towards Eddie, and it took everything in him to remember to walk at an average pace. He didn't want to look like a maniac.

He kept pouring over what he was going to say when he walked up to him. There were so many things that he wanted to say, and so many things that he felt like he couldn't say. Feelings and memories were flooding back to him, and he stressed how much he could even remember.

"Your comedy specials suck."

Rich couldn't believe that it was Eddie that ended up getting the first word. 

"Oh, are you a fan? Would you like an autograph or a selfie?" Richie asked, walking closer. Eddie's face fell slightly at the response. "Or would your mother like one, Eds?"

"Fuck you," Eddie snapped. "Don't call me that, and don't fucking touch me."

Richie laughed as he ignored Eddie. He wasn't about to start listening to him now. The hug was quick. He wanted the moment to last forever, but he knew that it couldn't. He couldn't think about the fact that Eddie hit perfectly into his arms for those few seconds.

He wanted to live in the moment where he was bumping into Eddie on the streets of LA or any other city that isn't Derry. They were only two friends coming back together to catch up on their lives. There wasn't a cryptic childhood promise bringing them back to a murder town.

"Haven't changed a bit." He wasn't lying. He looked the same as Richie could remember from the images that floated back into his mind today.

"You look like shit."

Rich smiled and felt for the first time today that it was going to be okay. There might be something good about this town, and he might be looking at it.


	2. I will not ask you where you came from

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yeah, come see LA. I'll take you only to the clean parts, and you can watch my routine," Richie said. 
> 
> "Dude, I can't just go. I have a wife," Eddie said.
> 
> Richie looked out the window. He didn't need a reminder.
> 
> "Are you trying to convince me she's real?" 
> 
> "Why the fuck would I fake having a wife?" Eddie asked.

Richie couldn't bring himself to look at anyone in the parking lot anymore. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the phone call to Stan's wife but his head as reeling. He felt like if he didn't sit down soon, he might pass out from the weight of everything that happened.

He looked at Mike for a moment, and he clenched his fist for a moment. Stan wouldn't be dead in a bathtub if it weren't for the fucking phone call they had all received.

For a moment, Rich had a dark thought that maybe Stanley was the smartest out of all of them. Was death the only way out of whatever dark promise they had fallen into that summer as kids? 

"You can't leave!" Mike yelled at him. The desperation in his voice made Richie cringe. "We are the only ones who can kill It!"

Rich snapped back into the conversation. "People die every fucking day. I'm fucking leaving."

"You made a promise!"

With each step that he took, he tried to leave the yelling behind him. He focused on the sound of the gravel crunching under his shoes instead of whatever was happening behind him. It felt fitting that he was the first one to leave Derry and the first to go again. If nothing else, Richie was consistent.

Richie struggled to start the car and looked down to see what the problem was. It was only then that he noticed that his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't even get the key into the ignition. It didn't matter how he attempted to steady his hands because they continued to spasm. 

In between the shakes, he caught a glimpse of the scar on his hand. The fucking promise, Richie thought. Over the years, he had tried to remember what happened when he was asked how he got that scar. The memory never came regardless of how badly Richie wanted to know the truth. He had never even considered a situation where it came from a dirty piece of glass and a blood oath. 

Richie snapped back into reality when he heard the passenger door open. He quickly scrambled for anything that he could use as a weapon but cursed, realizing that the rental car was empty of anything. Suddenly, he put the keys between his fingers, turning towards the passenger seat.

"Dude, were you going to fucking stab me?" Eddie yelled.

Richie exhaled deeply, rubbing his face with both of his hands. "Yeah, sorry if I'm a little on edge, asshole. Who the fuck just gets into someone's car?"

"We have to go back to the Inn to get our shit."

"Are you leaving your car here?" Richie asked, motioning to the car next to his. He tried to sound annoyed, but he was confident relief came across too strongly in his voice. Putting his hands on the wheel, it was noticeable that his hands had stopped shaking. It was just a coincidence, he thought.

Eddie shook his head. "I can't drive. I've had multiple drinks."

"And I haven't?" Richie asked.

"I'm drunk. I'm not fucking driving, Rich!" Eddie's voice was strained. It had the same qualities as a rubber band that was about to snap under the pressure of a kid stretching it too far. 

"What about the fucking rental car?"

"Do you want me to crash? Do you know how high the chances are that right now I could crash, asshole? I'm not fucking driving," Eddie repeated. This time there was a noticeable wheeze between each word. Richie wondered if his asthma followed him into adulthood. He wondered the same thing earlier when he heard Bill stutter. Was it was always there, or was it just how Derry leaving its mark on them? Could a town leave a physical mark? 

Richie looked over at him and noticed that Eddie was fumbling with the pocket of his sweatshirt. The inhaler In Eddie's hand confirmed that he never outgrew the asthma.

Richie leaned over, putting his hand on Eddie's shoulder. He squeezed his shoulder lightly. "You okay?" 

Eddie nodded, raising the inhaler to her mouth. He took in a deep breath that was a mixture of medicine and oxygen. 

Rich kept his hand on Eddie's shoulder until the tension relaxed in his body. 

"The only way I'm leaving this car is if you physically drag me out of it," Eddie said weakly. He reached over, plugging in his seatbelt and smugly crossing his arms across his chest.

Richie started the car and smiled. He went to reach for his phone, but he realized he now remembered precisely how to navigate Derry. The blur was lifting from the memories in his mind. Things were starting to come into focus, and it created unease. Rich told himself that it was the shots turning his stomach, and not what was lingering in the shadows of those memories.

The drive started in silence between the two, but nothing about it was uncomfortable. It almost felt like the few months that they had together when Richie got his license before moving, and his parents let him borrow the car. They would all cram uncomfortably in the car driving around; they'd just drive around with no actual destination or goal in mind. And Richie would always drop off Eddie last, even it logistically made no sense. Richie wished he knew how few of those moments there were because he would have made those drives take just a little longer. 

"Maybe, I mean, just maybe, we should stay," Eddie said, finally breaking the silence.

"You're fucking kidding me, right? You just had an asthma attack, and you want to fucking stay here now?" Riche snapped.

"No, I don't want to fucking stay."

"Don't mention the fucking promise."

"What if we can really stop It? We almost did once." 

The red light filled the car as Richie pressed the brake. He looked over at Eddie and felt like he was a teenage boy again at a loss for words. So many emotions had flooded back in the past few hours, but this one felt the most painful. This could have been the two of them driving home from the rare nights Richie was allowed to borrow his parent's car. He'd always drop off Eddie last, even if it logistically didn't make any sense. 

"Maybe we can, and maybe we can't. And maybe we all fucking die." Richie said. At dinner, amidst the good memories, other ones also crept in. For each laugh, he could even remember the words that Bowers would sling at him. Fag. Flammer. Cocksucker. The rumors that swirled the school all came rushing back. Where they still rumors if they were right, Richie thought. 

Yeah, fuck this town, he was the thought he finally settled on in his mind.

"Rich, we promised," Eddie said. Any of the strain that had been present earlier was gone, and it was replaced by a boldness. 

Richie was taken back by the sudden boldness in Eddie's voice. 

"I should die over every dumb thing we've done as kids?" Richie asked. "This is fucking insane. Don't you calculate this shit for a living?"

"Yeah, sorry, but I don't know how to calculate the risk on a murderous shape-shifting clown, but it doesn't look good."

"Exactly, so you're going to get all your shit, and then we're going to the airport."

"I don't know. We made it here. And shouldn't we do it for like Stan or -"

"Don't fucking do that. If it weren't for Mike's phone calls, he'd still be alive. Or if he still decided to off himself, it wouldn't even affect you because you wouldn't fucking remember him." Rich snapped, pointing his finger at Eddie and gripping the wheel tightly with his other hand.

"Beep-beep," said Eddie. It came out of his mouth before Eddie could even process the words, and the confusion was apparent on his face.

Richie's head snapped towards Eddie, and most of the aggression slipped from his body. "Fuck, I'd forgotten all about that."

"Me too. How do people shut you up without it?" Eddie gave a small smile.

"They don't."

Richie, for the last few years, rarely had anyone to tell him to stop or shut up. Most of the people he surrounded himself enabled his random thoughts and frantic tendencies or weren't around long enough to find him annoying yet. He had forgotten what it was like to have pushback.

Until this moment, Richie didn't realize how much he had missed Eddie. Richie didn't know you could lose something and not know. It seemed as colossal as if his lungs had vanished. This loss in his life had left him incapable of breathing. For 27 years, he had been gasping for air, but he never noticed that he slowly been dying. Suddenly, sitting in this car with Eddie, he could breathe again. His lungs could feel expanded. It was the best he had felt, but at the same time, the muscle ached from years of atrophy. The discomfort only lingered in the joy of finally having air again. For the first time in years, Richie felt alive.

"So, what's the rush to go home? Need time to memorize more shitty routines you didn't write?" Eddie smirked. 

"Is that a confession that you've watched them?"

"I don't need to watch a Netflix special to remember that your jokes suck."

"That's not what your mother said last night," Richie teased.

"My mother never even fucking liked you!" Eddie snapped, throwing up both hands into the hair.

"That's a lie. I'm sorry that our love was too passionate for you to understand." 

Eddie shook his head and laughed. 

Richie stole a glance at Eddie. His transformation into adulthood had left him the most unchanged, except that his dimples had deepened over the years. Those dimples and that smile made Richie's heartache in a way where he wanted to grab Eddie's face.

But the feeling fluttered momentarily when he noticed that the smile didn't reach Eddie's eyes. There was a sadness in his eyes that Richie couldn't ignore. He couldn't remember his eyes looking that way as children. He wondered when his eyes became that sad, and if it was possible to reverse.

"You could, uh, come with me," Richie said as he parked the car next to the Derry Inn. 

"What?" 

Richie tightly closed his eyes and cursed at himself. The thought had crossed his mind a few times, but he didn't mean to say it out loud. He blamed the sad eyes for knocking him off balance. 

"Yeah, come see LA. I'll take you only to the clean parts, and you can watch my routine," Richie said. 

"I could do that in my own home." 

Richie wondered for a moment, is that something he had done in the past? Was there a night in the Kaspbrak home where they watched his routine together? Did Eddie find it funny? Did he make fun of it to his wife? Richie tried to shake the worst-case scenarios from his mind. 

"Yes, but now you can sit in the front row and take notes on everything you hate about it."

"Dude, I can't just go. I have a wife," Eddie said.

Richie looked out the window. He didn't need a reminder.

"Are you trying to convince me she's real?" 

"Why the fuck would I fake having a wife?" Eddie asked.

To make me jealous, Richie wanted to say. He shook that thought out of his head. "To use as an excuse."

"You're an idiot. I can't just leave my wife at home and go to LA. Myra would lose her fucking mind if I went to California. She doesn't like it when it takes me too long to get home after work, or if I don't text her the right amount of times during the day." 

"Glad to know, Mya- was that her name? Actually, don't tell me because that's not the point; the point is I don't care if she doesn't want you to go to LA, do you want to go?" 

Eddie looked out the window. "I don't know."

"You won't even remember it, probably, so you wouldn't be lying to your wife about it when she asks."

Eddie quickly unclipped his seatbelt. He didn't say a single word but started walking towards the Derry Inn.

Richie threw his hands up in confusion. He rolled down the window shouting at him, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Getting my bags, asshole," Eddie yelled back without turning around.

Richie laughed. He realized he had no actual plan for what they would do when they got to LA, but that didn't matter. They would figure it out as they went along. 

He took his phone out to search for two flights to LAX, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Stanley. Richie tried to keep refocusing his mind, but those thoughts couldn't be pushed away.

He wanted to say that he didn't understand why Stanley did it, but the truth was he understood better than he wanted to admit. He most times, he silenced those thoughts with alcohol or weed. It quieted the roars of those thoughts into just quiet whispers. He put them to sleep, but he knew that they were still there just waiting for the right moment to attack.

It had been dormant for so long that he hoped those feelings had died. 

Now he also wondered what the fuck everyone else remembered. It was the most stressful game of Battleship he had ever played. He knew exactly where he placed his secrets on the board, but he couldn't be sure if anyone glanced at his board or already sank one of his ships. 

Did he remember things that they hadn't yet? The memories came back in jumbled bits, and it was challenging enough to sort all of the pieces. Mostly, it was how he felt in those years. 

Did they remember things that he couldn't? 

Did they know where he had hidden the largest ship?

Fuck, he wondered, had he ever told anyone? He slammed his hands against the wheel and let out a stream of curse words. 

He wished that Stanley was here. Stanley always knew the right thing to say.

Suddenly, Richie looked up, and the road looked like a sunset with all of the fallen leaves spread across it, and he could almost hear the sound of them crushing underneath his bicycle. This was the best time of the year, in his opinion. That was a belief that had stayed with him through adulthood.

"Did we have homework in math?" Richie yelled as he turned back to look at Stanley. 

"How many times do I have to remind you that I'm not in your class," Stanley asked.

"I forget you're in those nerd classes with the other virgins," Richie laughed.

Stanley rolled his eyes. Stanley frequently found that the easiest way to silence Richie was just to ignore him. 

"Are you still coming over for dinner?" Richie asked. "If so, let's get a movie to watch after. I'm thinking Halloween."

"Does it have to be a horror movie?" Stanley asked.

"Stop being such a pussy," Richie said slowly down his peddling to now be side by side with Stanley.

"Can I ask you something?"

That question always made Richie nervous, but especially from Stanley. This was the boy who enjoyed spending his time just looking at birds and figuring out what type of bird it was. He was the most observant person Richie had ever met. He sometimes got worried that Stanley observed him like one of those birds in an attempt to figure out what made him really tick. 

"Shoot," Richie said. He made sure that his voice was loud and confident. 

"I keep thinking about the first time we went to Neibolt," Stan started.

"The fuck -" Richie started.

"The thoughts just creep in sometimes, you know?" Stanley cut him off.

Richie nodded at Stan. He peddled slightly ahead of Stanley nervously, awaiting the question. At least, he would be able to cover up his reaction by being in front of him and having a few seconds to process.

"But after all this time, I just don't understand why you lied about the short straw."

Richie swerved hard at the question. He didn't mean to jolt, but it had caught him so off guard that he turned the handlebar unintentionally. He cursed as he adjusted the handle preventing a crash. After the chaos of that day, he had forgotten entirely that had lied about the short straw. 

"You okay?"

Richie braked. "I don't think I heard the question."

"Why did you lie?"

"I...I didn't, I mean..." Rich started, but he couldn't bring himself to outright lie to Stanley. "Why would I willingly walk into that fucking house?"

"I can't figure it out, but you did." 

Richie started to pedal again.

"You can't just peddle away, Tozier," Stan yelled after him.

Richie got off his bike and tossed it to the side of the street. He threw his arms up. "What the fuck do you want me to say, Stan?" 

"The truth. I know that's hard for you, -," Stan said softly. 

"Fuck you," Richie interrupted before Stanley could finish his statement. He threw himself down on the curb. 

"If you're asking, I'm assuming you have a theory. So let's hear it, Stan, why do you think I went in?" Rich asked. He knew that he shouldn't be mad at Stanley for asking any of this, but he couldn't seem to push down the rage. What the fuck was he actually asking?

Stan calmly sat down next to Richie. The two children couldn't have looked more different on that curb. Stan sat with perfect posture next to a boy who was hunched over with his head in his hands. Someone looking at that might think that Stan was years older than Rich just by the energy he projected.

"I don't have a theory," Stan said.

"That's bullshit. What is your big fucking guess, genius?" Rich asked.

"This isn't a game. I just want to know why you risked your life."

Richie wanted to scream loud enough to break glass, but he kept it inside. He knew that he was quickly approaching a classic Richie meltdown. There would be excessive swearing and, eventually, sharp words whose only purpose was to inflict as much damage as possible. 

He also knew that it wouldn't happen next to Stanley. Mostly, because it never worked with Stanley. Richie could throw the nastiest fit possible, and Stanley would still be there waiting to put the pieces back together. He knew that was what would happen this time by looking at Stan right now. His eyes were full of concern.

"I think saying I risked my life is a bit much. I was just walking into your average neighborhood murder house," Richie said.

"But you went in for some reason. I was so scared to go near that house. I thought I was going to pass out just looking at it, and you just walked in like it wasn't a big deal," Stanley said. His voice started to break as he continued to talk. 

"Dude, I didn't believe half the shit you all were saying until then. You were all acting like fucking Freddy Kreuger moved to town," Richie said. 

"You really didn't see anything before that?" Stanley asked quietly. 

"No," Richie said. He took off his glasses to clean them against his Hawaiian shirt. They weren't getting any cleaner, but the distraction from the nagging feeling that he wasn't entirely telling the truth was welcome. The things he had seen were just dreams, he convinced himself. Dreams weren't real.

"You're fucking lucky."

Richie's head shot up when Stanley cursed. Most times, he relished in the few moments were a curse slipped from Stan's lips, but this was different. Stan's voice had sounded hollow, and he just stared ahead at the street. 

"Yeah, you were right I lied." Richie decided that he might not be able to apologize for Stan almost dying, but he could at least be honest with him. He owed him that much. 

"Why?"

Richie stood jumped to his feet and just started pacing in front of the curb. The sounds of the leaves under his shoes were deafening. The only other sound that he could hear was the pounding of his own heart. He continued to pace, trying to quiet the pounding so he could even attempt to think.

"Rich, it's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want," Stanley said softly. 

"Eddie." 

"What?"

"Eddie." Richie paused. He felt like he was pressed against the brick wall he had built between him and the truth. He bit his tongue lightly as he decided to start tearing down the wall he had so carefully constructed. "I just fucking panicked thinking about him in that house. That house always scared the shit out of him, and I couldn't just stand outside while he was in there. I was so fucking scared for him."

"That makes sense."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Richie asked a little too quickly. He could feel his walls starting to rebuild. 

"Holy shit, I'm just saying it makes sense. I don't think you'd have risked your life if I pulled the first short straw."

"I'd like to think I'd die for you, too," Richie said. "Isn't that part of being a loser?"

Stanley's expression morphed suddenly. Richie didn't know how to explain the change, but it was as if a cloud had passed over, and he suddenly was engulfed in darkness. 

"Stan, what's wrong?" Richie asked, sitting down next to Stanley.

Stan shook his head.

"Dude, are you okay?" Richie asked again. 

"You have to fucking promise." Stanley ignored Richie's question. 

"Dude, what is it?" Richie asked. He leaned in towards Stanley. 

"Promise me, you'll keep him safe." Stan's voice had continued to get higher, and his eyes started to water. 

"Who? Eddie?" Richie asked.

Stanley nodded, but he never looked at Richie; instead, he closed his eyes tightly. His entire body was shaking as he held back the tears that were so desperate to escape.

"Stan, what the fuck are you talking about?" Richie felt panicked. He looked frantically looked around, hoping to see someone else on the street. He prayed that Bill might be biking past, or even some random person in a car. There had to be someone who knew what to do at this moment because Richie felt severely inadequate. This seemed so much bigger than he could fix. 

"You - have - to - promise." Stanley could barely get the words out before he collapsed into the palms of his hands. His sobs shook his entire body. 

Richie knew that there was nothing he could say at that moment. No joke could cure this moment, so instead, he pulled Stanley towards him. He held him tightly as Stanley rested his head against his shoulder. 

"I'll keep him safe," Richie said. The front of Richie's shirt was quickly soaked with the tears pouring from Stanley's eyes. He knew there were no words to calm him down, so he just let Stanley sob. 

Looking down at the time on his phone, Richie wished that he had asked more questions when they were younger. He also wondered what the fuck could be taking Eddie almost fifteen minutes to get his bag.

"God damn it, Eddie," Richie said, stepping out of the car. "I could already be halfway to the airport, but no, instead, I'm about to entire this creepy ass hotel."

He opened the door and screamed in, "Eduardo! Andale!"

Slowly, he took a few steps into the Inn. It was quieter than he had expected. No one was in the main entranceway or behind the counter. He wondered if there was a slightly less creepy hotel Mikey could have picked for them. It looked like it hadn't been updated in decades, and it didn't even seem to have employees. 

He could hear faint talking in one of the rooms and started to walk that way, hoping to find someone familiar.

"How did you Stanley was dead? Bev you knew."

Beverly ignored the questioning from Ben as she looked through the bar's alcohol variety. She seemed to settle on a bottle of whiskey, and Richie was impressed as she drank straight from the bottle. It was a bold choice in a possibly haunted hotel, and he wished Eddie had witnessed it. He would have hated it.

Richie leaned against the door frame. "What exactly do you mean when you say that Bev knew?"

"On the phone, you mentioned the bathtub first."

Beverly Marsh didn't look at either of the men in the room. She placed both of her hands on the bar and leaned back staring at the ground.

The silence was only broken by a loud thump behind the three of them. Richie turned around quickly to see Eddie standing on the middle landing of the staircase with two large suitcases. Of course, he had overpacked too much for the trip. He assumed that one of them was just full of items he would never need, but there was the slimmest chance he might, like rain boots. 

"What did I miss?" Eddie asked.

"Apparently, Bev knew Stanley died."

"Excuse me?" Eddie asked. He left his suitcases where they were and walked downstairs.

"It's not just Stan, I've seen everyone die," Bev said. Tears rolled down her cheek silently.

"That's a pretty fucked up thing to say," Rich asked as he stepped behind the bar as well. He needed another drink. 

"Rich," Ben said quietly. His tone was soft.

Rich looked down at the ground. He knew that his tone had cut harder than he meant, but he struggled to stop himself from talking this time. 

"No, this is insane. This thing comes back, what, every twenty-seven years? Let's kick the can down the road and do it then."

"We'll be 70 years old, asshole." Eddie's hand flew up in front of him for emphasis.

Rich opened his mouth and then shut it. There were so many things that he wanted to say. 

"We don't make it to 70. What happened to Stan…we don't make it." Bev said, looking right at Rich.

"Bevvie, are you sure?" Rich asked. "How do you know?"

A variety of beeps and buzzes went off throughout the room. Each member of the losers looked down at their phones to see a message from Bill.

We need to talk. On the way to the Inn.

Beverly grabbed one of the bottles and sat down on the couch. "Let's wait for them to get here."

Rich took a swig from the first bottle that he could grab. He grimaced as the tequila went down his throat. That wasn't his first choice, but it would get the job done. He needed to quiet the memories. 

He knew that he didn't need Beverly to explain herself. Richie knew it in his gut that there were two people who he would always trust their observations - Stanley and Beverly. They always understood and saw everything.

Richie was suddenly hit with the memory of the last time that had been drunk with Beverly Marsh. Growing up, the two were always sneaking smokes and drinks together, but only a few times were they truly drunk together. 

It was during Richie's last summer in Derry, and his parents had conveniently left him the house for a few days. They were gone to look at their future home, and Richie didn't want to go with them. They made him promise that no one would come over to the house. He promised. He knew that his parents knew he was lying, and that the other six would be over within an hour of leaving the house.

The seven had spent that first night drinking whatever alcohol they were able to sneak out of their houses without notice. The coffee table was covered in a mixture of various beers. 

Richie locked eyes with Beverly across the room. She smiled before pulling out her box of cigarettes out of the front pocket of her overalls. With a quick nod towards the door, she pushed Bill's arm from her shoulder and slid off the couch. 

She walked lightly on her toes as she moved across the room. Over the years, she had become skilled at entering and leaving rooms silently. She knew exactly how much weight to place on her toes. Richie thought that in another life, she could have been a ballerina.

He wanted to stay on the loveseat with Eddie asleep pressed against his chest. Out of habit, the two always had sat on this chair. It was more comfortable when they were younger and smaller. The two had outgrown the chair, but they still managed to somehow make it work. 

Richie quickly looked around the room at the remaining losers throughout the room. Bill's head rested against Mike's shoulder, and his arm hung awkwardly where Beverly had been seconds before. They both were clearly asleep, as were Stan and Ben. Stanley had, at some point, created a bed out of pillows on the floor. Ben was the smartest of them all who had claimed the recliner that was just known as "Richie's dad chair." 

Finding strength in all of them being asleep, Richie leaned forward and gently kissed the top of Eddie's head. Eddie made a noise in response, and Richie's body tensed. He stayed as still as possible, waiting for Eddie to say something, but the only sound was Eddie's relaxed breathing. He slowly shifted Eddie towards the inside of the loveseat. 

Walking outside, Richie moved with precisely zero percent of the grace that Beverly previously demonstrated. He stumbled across the room, noting that he might have had a little more to drink than he thought. 

"Should I be worried you're secretly in love with me?" Beverly said in a low flirty voice once Richie closed the door. She was leaning against the railing, looking up towards the moon. 

Richie stood next to Beverly. "Is it that obvious, Bevvy?" 

Bev fluttered her eyelashes and softly said. "I mean, you could have kissed anyone."

Rich felt his heart race for a moment. Technically, that is true. He could have kissed anyone when the group played truth or dare earlier that night when Eddie dared him. The reality was that there was only one person he could have kissed. After the rumors that had been going around the school...

Richie snapped back into the moment and smiled, bringing his left hand up and bringing it up to Beverly's face. He beamed, looking up at her in the moonlight. Richie noticed how the light only seemed to make her beautiful, which he didn't think was possible. 

"But, I've always been in love with you, Beverly Marsh." Rich pushed some of her long red hair back behind her ear. Looking in her stormy eyes, he completely understood how everyone had fallen for her at some point. 

Beverly stepped towards Richie placing her hand on his chest and leaned in so close that Rich could smell the alcohol on her breath. "That's a lie, Tozier. There was no love in that kiss, and you know it."

"You're breaking my heart," Richie said, dramatically throwing his body back sitting on the porch swing. He brought his hand to his chest, mimicking the pain of a heart attack. 

"I can't break something you don't have." Bev sat down the porch swing next to him. She turned towards him and putting her legs on his lap. 

"Very nice," Richie said.

"So why did you pick me then?" Beverly asked, opening the cigarette box. 

Richie squinted at what was in her hand. It wasn't sure if it was his glasses or the poor light, but it didn't look like a cigarette. He pointed at the joint in her hand, "That is not a cigarette, Bevvie. Why have you been hiding that all night?" 

"I can think of five reasons."

"This would be good for them," Richie said. 

"They'd never."

"Eds should be out here with us," Richie said. "If any of them need this, it's him."

"That's the worst idea you've ever had. No one needs to see him anymore paranoid than he already is." 

Beverly laughed as she handed the joint over to Richie. Her head fell into her chest as she collapsed in a fit of giggles. At that moment, he knew that it would be difficult for him to ever meet a girl as beautiful as her. 

Richie looked at the joint in his hand. He was already drunk and knew that he didn't need this, but that didn't stop him. Inhaling the smoke-filled his throat deeply, and he inhaled deeper. He threw his head back as he exhaled. The smoke spiraled up towards the moon. 

Richie closed his eyes and smiled. He rested his hand on Beverly's leg and decided to embrace the moment because he knew that he was operating on borrowed time. There was no telling how many of these moments he had left before the move.

"Is he still having panic attacks?" Bev asked.

Richie nodded. "Not as often, but yeah, he has them. He thinks its the asthma most times."

"Why didn't you just kiss him?"

"Is this about those fucking rumors? Why don't you just ask me if I want to fuck b-,"

"Beep beep," Bev said softly. "I don't give a fuck about the rumors. You never cared about people were saying about me."

Beverly shrugged, taking the joint back. 

"Yeah, I'd still be your friend even if you were a massive slut. Like, you could be the main beaver supplier of the town, and I'd still be your fucking best friend."

Beverly laughed lightly. "Yeah, and I'd still be your friend if you kissed Eddie."

"I don't - why would - I just don't know," Richie stammered. 

"You know, I really think he wanted you to kiss him, too."

"That's how I know you're too high." Richie shook his head in disbelief.

"Oh my god." Beverly stretched out each syllable dramatically. "Why else would he have dared you that? It's because he wanted you to kiss him, but no, you had to go and pick the safe choice. You picked me." 

Bev pointing at herself for emphasis. 

"You sound like my uncle ranting about the Kennedy assassination. 'Young man, don't fall for what the government is telling you! LBJ killed him!' That's what you sound like."

"The government definitely killed him," Beverly said. 

"Bevvy, will you promise me something?" Richie asked.

"What is it?" 

"Keep Eddie safe."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, but Stan made me promise, but I, uh, won't be here anymore."

Rich looked over at Beverly.

"Stanly made you promise? Did he say why?" Beverly asked quietly. Richie noticed that the smile that was previously on her face seemed to vanish. It was only for a second, but a darkness settled on her face.

Richie shook his head. "No, but it seemed really important to him."

Bev placed her hand on Richie's hand, lightly squeezing it. "Of course. I'll look out for him."

"Like, I know he's going to be fine without me. He doesn't need to be protected. Not the way that his mom tries to protect him from everything. Without us, I don't think she'd ever let him leave the house." Richie said. He grabbed the joint back from Beverly. "Make sure he still lives. Force him to get dirty. He'll say he hates it, but it's good for him."

Richie didn't know if he was going to cry or laugh. 

"Are you going to be okay?" Beverly asked, leaning towards Richie. 

"I don't know. I don't know who I am without him and you and everyone else. Y'all are the best part of me," Richie said.

"You're selling yourself short. You're better than you know, Tozier."

"It's true though."

"We're all better together," Beverly said. "We're always our best together."

Richie snapped back to paying attention to the room. He hadn't even noticed that Bill and Mike had entered the room. There seemed to be a conversation that was already going on, but he had missed the start of it. 

"The deadlights," Bill whispered.

"The what?" Eddie asked.

"The deadlights. Bev was the only one to see them when It got her. It must be why she sees them," Bill responded.

"Stan must have seen them, too," Bev said softy. "He was attacked that day. I don't know how I forgot. He had to wear those bandages for so long. Oh God, he must have been so scared."

Bill quickly made his way to comfort Beverly with whatever thoughts were in her mind. 

Richie looked over at Eddie. What the fuck did you see, Stanley, and why didn't you tell any of us about it?

Rich went from looking at Eddie to the suitcases behind him. They had an escape plan. They would be able to escape all of this and start over in the way that Richie had always wanted.

Stan, is this how I protect him? Richie thought. 

"It's the only way," Beverly said quietly, looking towards Richie.

He knew it in his bones that they could never outrun this evil. The two of them could leave this town, but that wouldn't keep them safe.

Richie thought that it was just the town that was haunted, but he knew that wasn't true. The seven of them were all just as haunted as the town. It showed up in different ways for each of them, but it already started to create cracks in each one of them. Some were more visibly broken than the others, but the rot was there inside them all. No distance could stop them from slowly rotting from the inside out. 

Richie made eye contact with Eddie. He hoped that Eddie understood what he was trying to tell him with his look. He hoped that Eddie knew that he wanted to leave more than anything, but that wasn't possible. They had to stay.

"Okay, so how do we kill this fucking clown for good, Mikey?" Richie asked.


	3. the ghosts will try to find you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Luckily, being your friend prepared me to deal with clowns."
> 
> Richie forgot in that moment to keep space between the two. He playfully ran his hair through Eddie's hair. It was something that he had done a hundred times before, but it felt different this time. Sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, it made Richie panic that he was doing something wrong. 
> 
> Eddie pushed Richie's hand away. 
> 
> "Can I stay here tonight?" 
> 
> Richie felt panic course through his entire body. 
> 
> "Yeah, of course."
> 
> The words escape before he could even process what he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this took so long to write! Life has been a little more hectic than normal. I hope that you enjoy this chapter and I cannot wait to start getting working on the next one!

The Losers all agreed that they should sleep for a few hours before they attempted to defeat evil. Richie thought it was bullshit. There was no way that any of them were going to sleep well that night. It wasn't possible when the ghosts of the past were coming towards each of them. It was a mixture of relief and terror.

Unlike the last time they had all been together (and it wasn't even all of them this time, but they each tried to push that thought away), they were too grown to admit that they were afraid of what monsters were in the closet. Instead, they each locked themselves away behind closed doors to face the terrors alone.

Each thought they were on a unique journey, but they were all walking down the same worn path. 

Richie had gone back to get a glass of water, and on the way back to his room, he paused at a door that wasn't his. He raised his hand to knock on the door but couldn't bring himself to complete the action. He just rested his hand against the door.

He didn't understand how just two days ago, he had stood in front of thousands of people, telling them exaggerated and expertly crafted truths. He was able to give glimpses of himself, or what he convinced himself was who he was, to complete strangers, but he didn't have the strength to knock on this door.

He had to remind himself that while these feelings and memories felt fresh, things were not back to the way that they had been. They weren't kids anymore. They couldn't just slip back into their old familiar patterns. At the same time, nothing had changed, but absolutely everything changed.

It used to be so easy. He thought about how, after that summer, especially, it would have been so easy to knock on Eddie's door. Well, that might not be entirely accurate. There was no way that Mrs. K allowed her precious son to spend the night at anyone else's home. Her voice would snarl towards the children when they asked if Eddie could stay the night, like a mother bear protecting her cubs. There was no knowing what sort of disease these children had in their homes. Her son would only sleep in his bed. 

She didn't know that this was entirely true.

Riche had forgotten about the many times that he would hear a tapping at his window during the night.

The very first time it happened, Richie grabbed the baseball bat that he started to keep in his bedroom. He gripped the handle tightly as he stepped towards his window.

"Dude, what the actual fuck? Just open the window!"

Richie sighed as he lowered the baseball bat recognizing the voice. He quickly threw open the window. "I was hoping the person outside my window in the middle of the night would be hotter and have bigger tits."

"I'm the hottest person you know, asshole."

Richie wouldn't tell Eddie, but he most days with agree statement; he looked down at Eddie and noticed how small he looked in that moment with his head his hood pulled tightly over his head. His arms were tightly crossed against his chest, and he wouldn't make eye contact with Richie.

"Dude, how did you escape your jail cell?"

"I don't have bars on my windows yet. Are you going to help me in or not?"

Richie immediately stuck his hand outside the window with no hesitation. Eddie grabbed his hand, and with some moderate struggling, he managed to make his way into the room with minimal noise. There was a slight thump when Eddie entered the room, but Richie knew that his parents would assume that he was making a mess of some sort. 

"So, is your mom just alone in the house because I could go keep her company if you want?"

"Fuck you."

Richie awkwardly put his hands in his sweatpant pockets. "What inspired the jailbreak?"

"I can't sleep."

Richie didn't know what to say back, but he understood. It was the anniversary of Georgie's disappearance. Murder, he reminded himself. All of the thoughts that he tried to bury down seemed to crawl out of their graves suddenly. He had wondered if it affected any of the other losers, but he wasn't going to ask them. Some skeletons were easier to ignore.

It seemed though that Eddie had the same skeletons haunting him the dark. He hadn't stopped pacing Richie's room since he came through the window.

"Have you tried rubbing one out? That sometimes helps me sleep."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Beep beep, Rich."

"I'm just trying to help you. It's not my fault you're afraid of your own dick."

"I'm not afraid of my own dick," Eddie snapped. "I just can't fucking sleep because I can't stop seeing Georgie every time I close my eyes and I just don't understand why we were so lucky. Why did we get to live?"

Richie shuffled uncomfortably. They avoided the topic of everything that happened that summer. It was just easier. 

"I don't think it was luck."

Eddie didn't look at Richie as he walked over towards Richie's bed. He sat down on the bed, drawing his knees close to his chest. The sadness that sometimes lingered in Eddie's eyes seemed to have settled over every aspect of his body. He looked so small in that moment.

"There has to be a reason."

Richie sat down on the bed next to Eddie. He was very aware of the space between the two of them, making sure that he didn't sit too close, even though he wanted to hold Eddie close to him. 

"Eds-"

"You know I hate that and I'm already stressed out and can't you just -"

"My dearest Eddie Spaghetti, not everything in life has a reason. Things just happen. Clowns will always exist."

"Luckily, being your friend prepared me to deal with clowns."

Richie forgot in that moment to keep space between the two. He playfully ran his hair through Eddie's hair. It was something that he had done a hundred times before, but it felt different this time. Sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, it made Richie panic that he was doing something wrong. 

Eddie pushed Richie's hand away. 

"Can I stay here tonight?" 

Richie felt panic course through his entire body. 

"Yeah, of course."

The words escape before he could even process what he said. 

Eddie didn't say anything but quickly found his way underneath the comforter. He pressed his body as close the wall as he could. Richie looked at the space next to Eddie, and without lying down, he knew that he would fit perfectly. He pushed that thought out of his head. There was no way that Eddie would want to share a bed with him. There would be at least ten diseases that he could catch from him.

Rich also knew that he wouldn't want to share a bed with a boy like him. Boys don't share beds with other boys. He started to get up from the bed to sleep on the floor.

"Rich," Eddie said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"I think the last time I vacuumed was like summer so I hope you brought your inhaler."

Eddie groaned.

Richie laughed. "I can sleep on the floor."

"That's stupid and you know it. Just lie the fuck down."

Richie felt his heart start to race as he lay down next to the boy in his bed. He prayed that he couldn't hear how fast his heart was racing. It was the only sound that Richie could hear, so it seemed impossible that it wasn't giving him away. 

This wasn't the first time that Richie had slept next to Eddie, but this time felt different. There were countless nights that he slept next to Eddie in Bill's bedroom or on Mike's living room floor. This didn't feel like that. It felt dangerous.

All Richie could notice was how close Eddie was next to him. He could feel his arm pressed against his arm. He swore that his heart skipped a beat when he felt Eddie's hand brush against his hand. It had to have been a mistake.

Richie wanted to say something. Crack a joke. Say something inappropriate. Tell this boy how cute he was. He was afraid of the last slipping out; he kept his mouth shut. 

Instead, he leaned over to his alarm clock and set his alarm early enough to wake Eddie up to leave before Mrs. K would notice he was gone. 

He then turned over onto his side and without thinking, draping his arm across Eddie's waist. He tensed for a moment while he waited for Eddie to say something to him about his arm. That moment never came. Instead, Richie thought that he might pass out when he felt Eddie run his thumb against the inside of his hand.

They remained in that perfect silence for the rest of the night.

That started a routine that lasted on and off throughout the school year. Richie stopped asking questions when Eddie showed up at his window. He would make room for him in his bed and set the alarm for him to leave in the morning. It was their secret routine. 

"You lost, Rich?"

Richie dropped his hand quickly from the door, looking toward Beverly as he snapped out of the past. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to come up with a reason for why he was standing outside of Eddie's door that was better than the truth. 

"Sneaking to Bill's room? A little late-night -" 

Beverly scrunched her nose, shaking her head lightly. "Sneaking for a cigarette. Wanna join?"

"Now this really feels like high school, Marsh," Richie said. 

The two of them quietly made it outside, sitting on the front steps of the inn. A chill was in the air. Richie draped his arm around Beverly's slim shoulders when her shake slightly. For a moment, he thought that in another life, he could have loved her. Her beauty was undeniable, but that was never what had drawn him to her. It was her strength and her lack of fear. 

"Have you really seen all of your deaths because that's some dark shit."

Beverly took a long drag off the cigarette. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"This isn't a maybe kind of situation."

"I've seen so many flashes that I can't piece together what is real. It's like I watched a movie, but it kept in every single take."

As someone who had filmed many things in his career, he understood exactly what she meant. 

"Do we all make it?" Richie asked. It seemed that all of the noise outside stopped as well. The entire town was waiting to hear her answer. 

Beverly passed the cigarette. "I don't know."

"Your superpower sucks."

Beverly smiled. "Yeah, it does. 

"So tell me about the guy that managed to get Beverly Marsh to settle down. Is he hotter than Haystack?"

"Stop embarrassing him with that hot shit," Bev said.

"There's no way you can look at him and not think he's hot! Like if he showed up outside your door saying, let's fuck you'd just be like sorry, no?"

A blush settled onto Beverly's cheeks. "Okay, he's hot. And is that why you were outside Eddie's room?"

The air was suddenly sucked out of Richie's lungs. He didn't know why exactly he was standing outside of Eddie's room, but there was no way that was the reason. Eddie was married. And straight. And they had other things to focus on like killing a fucking shape-shifting clown.

"Oh come on, you know that if I was going to blow out someone's back, that's the wrong Kaspbrak."

"That's bullshit. You spent the entire night flirting with him."

Richie tensed. Beverly could always see through the bullshit. "I'm sorry that I'm charismatic, Bev, but I'm not trying to fucking my childhood best friend."

"Maybe you should." She shrugged slightly. 

Richie didn't look at Beverly as twisted the end of the cigarette to ash. "Thanks for the cig, Bev."

He kissed her on the forehead gently before standing up to entire the inn again. He waited for a moment to see if she was going to follow him, but she didn't stir. She continued to sit on the steps in the light of the moonlight and lit another cigarette. 

It seemed that there was so much that they all wanted to say to each other, but none of them knew how to breach the missing twenty-seven years. There were so many things they didn't know about each other. 

The inn seemed to be completely silent. In the dark, it was one of the creepier places that he had stayed in his life, and he stayed in my shady places early in his career. There was a seedy motel after motel when he first started touring. This place, though? Some people might have tried to spin it, saying that it had real character, but that was bullshit. It was just as unsettling as this entire town.

Richie made his way up the stairs to go to this room. This time he wakes right past Eddie's door without stopping. Some doors are better left shut. 

Once inside his room, Richie starts to fumble through the contents of his duffel bag. He quickly realizes that he packed terribly. It seems that he didn't pack anything that would be useful. He notices that he didn't bring any toothpaste, and he doubts that the front desk would have any. If there were toothpaste, it most likely would have been older than Richie.

He sighs and decides that it might as well attempt to sleep. He took off his shirt and then his glasses. He tossed the shirt to the ground. This wasn't the time to start caring about holding nothing. His glasses, though, he put on the nightstand next to him.

Richie's eyes snapped open when he heard the door to his room open. 

"I couldn't sleep," Eddie said, entering the room frantically. "Dude, why didn't you lock your door? You're in a creepy ass hotel. Do you want to get murdered?"

"It's wasn't high on my list of things I wanted to happen tonight," Richie said, reaching for his glasses. Once his glasses were on, he noticed that Eddie hadn't changed from earlier. He was shocked he wasn't already wearing matching pajamas. 

Richie suddenly was very conscious of the fact that he was sitting on his bed shirtless. He reached down on the floor to grab his shirt that he had just recently taken off. 

"Oh shit, did I wake you up?" Eddie asked. It seemed to be that he just noticed that Richie was in the room. He fidgetted awkwardly as his eyes lingered on Richie's chest. He noted that Richie had a broader chest than he had imagined, but he quickly diverted his eyes to the floor. 

Richie shook his head as he pulled his shirt over his head. "I don't like sleeping in new places."

"You're home; this isn't new," Eddie said. 

"It feels new. Like I'm relearning how to ride a bike. It should be easy, but it feels - different." 

Eddie started pacing in front of Richie's bed. Richie's eyes followed him as he frantically walked back and forth. "It's so fucked up. And these memories keep flooding back, and I can't believe I forgot. I forgot who you were. I've watched your awful fucking stand up and felt nothing."

"Thanks for that glowing review."

"I left you a one-star review." 

Richie laughed. Of course, Eddie would still be knocking him down a peg without even knowing.

Eddie stopped pacing. "I can't sleep. I can't remember the last time I slept in an empty bed. I mean there are some nights I wished Myra wasn't there-"

"Is there even space in the bed for you with her there?"

"Oh fuck you, yes, my wife is larger. It's not funny."

Richie looked down. That might not have been his best way to find out more about why Eddie wished he had nights without her. He was genuinely curious because it was something that he couldn't wrap his mind around. 

An empty bed had turned into a comfort for Richie. When he was younger, he always longed to have another person in his bed. He attempted to fill it with various flings, but no one ever seemed to fit quite right. Eventually, he stopped trying to find a person who could fill that space. He was able to fill the bed with his own thoughts and demons. There wasn't enough room for someone else.

"What things have you been remembering?" Richie asked in an attempt to change the topic.

Eddie sat down the edge of the bed. "That I broke my arm. I've always told people I've never broken a bone, but I did."

"I snapped your arm back in place," Richie said, slowly remembering more of that day himself. 

Eddie rolled his eyes. "I don't think you actually helped."

"I practically saved your arm," Richie said. 

"I remembered riding my bike to your house when I couldn't sleep," Eddie said softly.

Richie looked over at Eddie. Those memories had always come back to him, and he felt relieved that Eddie had them as well. They were currently separated by maybe two feet, but it felt like a canyon of the past was between them. He wanted to lean over and take Eddie's hands within his own and tell him that it was okay. Instead, he kept his hands in his lap.

"You'd set your alarm so I could leave and get home before our parents would notice."

"Oh, my parents knew," Richie said.

"What?" Eddie said, looking at Richie.

"Yeah, good ol' Wentworth looked in my room one night and that there was another person in my bed. I was interrogated about it the next morning," Richie said. He laughed as the memory came back to him. His parents had attempted to stage a discussion about safe sex with him. Even after Richie told them that it was Eddie, his mother still said to him that he needed to be careful when he shared a bed with anyone. He shrugged it off. It was just Eddie.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Richie asked as he watched Eddie start to fold back the comforter on the other side of the bed. He crossed his arms in an attempt to look annoyed. 

"Don't worry, you can just leave once I fall asleep," Eddie said. His voice had the smallest sharpness to it.

Richie exhaled loudly. This, at the same time, was the best-case and worst-case scenario for how this night could have played out. It was something that felt familiar and terrifying. 

"Dude, I'm honored that you're comforted by my presence, but you're not even going to fucking ask?" 

"Don't flatter yourself; I bet you haven't even showered today. I just don't want to be alone," Eddie said as laid down next to Richie.

Richie laid as still as he possibly could. This bed was too small for them to be sharing. He was afraid that any slight movement would move Eddie or that he might accidentally touch him. That thought made Richie's heartbeat race so quickly he expected his watch to think that he was working out. 

"What's your last memory of me?" Eddie asked.

Richie closed his eyes and tried to filter through all the memories that had come back to him. "Telling you, I'd miss fucking your mom before I moved, which I do truly miss."

"That's it?" Eddie asked. His voice was soft and quiet. 

Richie turned to look at Eddie. He really noticed just how close they were. He was able to see the wrinkles that had settled on his forehead in the years they spent apart. It was easy to see how Eddie had grown into this person. His face still held all the youth and wonder it did then, but a seriousness had settled in as well. He pondered if that was how he had decided to cope - becoming cautious and serious? 

"Yeah, that's it," Richie said, bringing his gaze back to the ceiling. 

"Oh," Eddie said. It was so quiet that Richie wasn't sure if he had actually said something. 

Eddie shifted slightly, and his arm pressed against Richie's. Neither one moved away. Richie could feel the warmth from Eddie's body against his. He wanted to wrap his arms around Eddie like they did when they were children. It seemed so much easier back then than it did at this moment. 

"How about you?"

"You driving away."

"That's depressing."

Eddie smiled at Richie. "Are you kidding? It was the most peaceful moment of my life."

"Fuck you, I bet you cried the entire time."

"Over you? You wish, Trashmouth."

Richie wanted to tell him that he didn't wish that at all. He never wanted Eddie to cry over him. God, he never wanted to give Eddie a reason to cry. 

"You should know that most people who share beds do end up crying from the joy of my-"

"Do not make a joke about your dick right now."

"Oh, I wouldn't joke about it. Just ask your mom, Eds."

"Stop calling me that," Eddie said. Richie noticed that there was a small smile on Eddie's face while he said it. He had always known that Eddie didn't hate his nicknames. It made Richie's heart skip a beat.

"I can't help it. You're just so cute, Eds." Richie pinched Eddie's cheek lightly.

Eddie groaned and pushed Richie's hands away from his face, but he didn't let go of Richie's hand. 

"Just shut up for once so I can try to sleep."

This felt easy, and it made Richie want to run from the room. He could just run out of this room and away from this before he somehow destroyed it. He always managed to break everything good that he came into contact with.

It felt as comfortable and messy as the last time the boys had shared a bed together. Richie remembered that he ran away that night.

Even back as a teenager, sleep was something that didn't come easily for Richie. His mind seemed to turn into overdrive the moment that the sun vanished below the horizon. 

The last time Richie climbed through his best friend's window, he was drunk.

Richie brought the bottle of vodka to his lips. He cringed slightly as the liquid touched his tongue. He would have preferred a joint at this moment, but he didn't want to bother Beverly for more already. There wasn't a fucking chance in hell he was going to let them realize that there were cracks in his foundation currently.

He didn't know if his parents were truly oblivious about the fact that their liquor was vanishing or if they just didn't know how to bring it up with him. He knew that they had sensed that something had changed in the last year. There was the hope that they assumed that it was just puberty. He could fake that conversation. He wasn't sure if he could have a conversation about the life or death experience he went through.

Richie went to throw a rock at the window, but he missed it. The rock hit hard against the siding of the house. He tried another time, and this rock made contact hard with the glass.

He was about to throw a third rock when suddenly Eddie's room was full of light. The silhouette of Eddie walked closer to the window, and then the familiar creek of the window opening filled the air.

"It's 2 in the morning, asshole. What the fuck do you want?" Eddie asked. 

Richie felt his heart in his throat as he looked at Eddie and his lack of a shirt. Also, his hair was disheveled and sticking out in directions, and his eyes were barely open. Sleep still clung to him. Richie wanted to cling to him, too.

"I wanted to see your cute face, Eds." His voice slurred.

"Are you drunk?" Eddie leaned out of the window. Richie tried to stop staring at Eddie's bare chest. He hadn't thought of the possibility that Eddie would be shirtless. This was something he had seen countless times, but not while he was drunk. He imagined that this was how people must have felt the first time they created pizza.

"You're drunk," Richie said. He pointed at Eddie before starting to giggle.

"How did you get here?" 

"Why does that matter? Are you going to invite me in?" Richie stepped closer to the window.

"Oh, when did you learn manners?"

Richie leaned against the open window. He noticed at that moment how close his hands were to Eddie's. "Your mother taught me last night."

"Just don't make a lot of noise," Eddie said. He motioned for Richie to enter the room and stepped away from the window.

Richie climbed into the window. He didn't remember it being this challenging the other times that he climbed through Eddie's window. Those times he hadn't had multiple shots of vodka in his system, though. 

There was not a word to discuss the complete lack of grace demonstrated by Richie has he crashed into Eddie's room. He knocked over the textbooks that were on his desk.

Eddie quickly reached for Richie before he crashed onto the ground. There was no way that Mrs. Kaspbrak wouldn't come investigating if she heard that. She would be in the room within seconds, and that wouldn't have ended well for either of the boys.

Richie leaned onto Eddie for slightly longer than was necessary, but he liked how he felt in Eddie's arms. 

"Have I ever told you how cute you are, Eds?" Richie straightened up and ran his hand through Eddie's messy hair. 

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Seconds ago."

"It's true. You're just so fucking cute, Spaghetti boy."

"Have you had any water? I'm going to get you some water and some aspirin. Just wait here, I'll be right back."

"I'll be so quiet you won't even know I'm here." Richie giggled sitting down on Eddie's bed. 

Eddie cursed as he walked out of the room. 

Richie didn't move from the bed the entire time that he was out of the room. If Eddie had told him that they were on a ship he would have believed him. The only thing that didn't seem to be moving was the bed. 

Eddie entered back into the room and handed Richie the glass of water. "Drink this, and take these."

"Thanks, doc."

"You need to sleep," Eddie said sitting down in the bed next to Richie.

Richie laughed. "You need sleep."

"These are disgusting, how can you even see out these?" Eddie reached to grab the glasses from Richie's face.

Richie squinted. He couldn't see the exact details of Eddie's face with his glasses off but he could see the outline of his body in the darkness. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to be pressed against that outline. He was certain that it was the alcohol.

The alcohol won in that moment as Richie brought his hand up to Eddie's face. Without thinking or saying anything, Richie leaned towards Eddie. He was so close that he could smell the toothpaste on Eddie's breath. Then, he could taste the toothpaste as he brought his lips against Eddie's. It clashed with the taste of vodka, but Richie could deal with that.

Time seemed to stop in that moment. 

Richie brought his hand up to Eddie's hair. He had run his hand through Eddie's hair countless times, but this was different. This was the first time that he could remember where Eddie had put his hand in his air. He melted into Eddie in that moment.

"Rich," Eddie said softly as he slowly pulled away. 

Richie suddenly felt sober and scared.

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry. I should go."

"Rich-"

"I'm sorry. Thanks for the water."

"Rich, you're too drunk right now."

"I have to go."

Richie didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have as he opened his eyes once he heard loud banging at the door. He shook his head trying to remember if that had been a dream or an actual memory.

He thought he knew the answer but it made his stomach turn.

"Rich, have you seen Eddie? I think he left."

Rich cursed under his breath. He had missed the most important step of setting an alarm. It was a rookie mistake and one that he hadn't made a single time as a child.

"What's that noise?" Eddie asked. His voice was full of sleep still and he buried his head against Richie's chest.

"It's just Bevvie."

The banging on the door was even louder and angrier this time. "Rich! Open the fucking door! We have to find Eddie."

Richie stumbled out of the bed and made it towards the door. He quickly unlocked it, and he was grateful that Eddie must have locked it last night when he came in. 

The door was thrown open aggressively the moment that Richie started to open the door. He had just managed to take a step back before it smacked him. "I can't believe he would just leave. He didn't even leave a note. What a fucking -."

The rant stopped mid-sentence as Beverly took in the sight in front of her. She smirked.

"Mike, said that we have to leave in five minutes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some comments and kudos or if you want to bother me with any reddie thoughts you can find me over at tumblr as helluva-pilot! xx


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